


Kenobi's Sno-Bliz

by trasharama



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, New Orleans, Non-Linear Narrative, Snoballs, Soft Ben Solo, smutty mcsmutsmut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24695080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trasharama/pseuds/trasharama
Summary: Ben’s lived six blocks away from Kenobi’s since he moved to New Orleans, and he’s managed to go the entire time without walking or driving past it once, which really is quite a feat considering the snoball stand sits on one of the city’s main roads.He cannot believe his track record is coming to an end.Because of his mother, no less.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 22
Kudos: 188





	Kenobi's Sno-Bliz

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello here is a fic im sorry it's BORING omg
> 
> find me on twitter, @reylobaelo

He didn’t think it would ever happen: that Rey would be in his house, licking the inside of his mouth, palming at his slacks-covered cock.

It’s just… it’s  _ Rey _ . 

She’s not meant to be here.

Rey wears  _ Kenobi’s Sno-Bliz _ t-shirts everyday and always smells like condensed milk and has syrup all over her fingers whenever he sees her, and he’s just… 

Just Ben. Suit-wearing, morally-corrupt, sweet-hating Ben.

But she  _ is _ here, and her lips are on his, and there’s no way he’s going to survive the rest of summer.

Not now.

***

Ben Solo’s mother visits him for the first time in five years on the 2nd of June.

June is not an ideal time to visit New Orleans. It’s hot, and sticky, and the bugs are out in full force, meaning that he just doesn’t leave the house when he can avoid it. If it had been up to him, Ben would’ve continued to just call his mother monthly until one of them died, because human interaction is not really his thing, and working through the awkward period between the falling out that isolated him from his family for five years and his father’s death a year ago does not really sound like the best time.

For anyone.

But she’s there, anyway, and launching into the motherly nags almost immediately.

“You’re telling me,” she says between sips of coffee, “that you have lived here for the last six years and you haven’t visited Kenobi’s once?”

He shrugs. “I don’t like sweets.”

“Apparently you don’t like to honor the man you were named after, either!”

“He’s dead, mom.” A pause. “He has been for like, fifty years!”

“It was  _ eight  _ years ago. And Kenobi’s is still an establishment, Ben. We are going. Right now.”

“No, we aren’t. I don’t like sweets.”

“It is over a hundred degrees outside. If I don’t refrigerate my stomach--”

He interrupts with a loud groan, feeling like a gangly teenager all over again. “That fucking  _ slogan, _ I can’t!”

“ _ Language _ , Benjamin.”

***

He’s lost track of time completely, lost track of  _ everything _ really, because how Rey Kenobi settled herself at his feet on her knees is completely beyond him.

Small, nimble fingers rub at the bulge in his pants, and he thinks he could come right then and there. It makes him feel… a lot of things. Small, like the sixteen-year-old boy who’d met a twelve-year-old, headstrong,  _ mean _ Rey, slurping snoballs at her grandpa’s stand down by the dozens, probably suffering an unbearable amount of tooth rot. Unstoppable, like the playboy he’d been in college, bulking up and growing into his features. Reverent, because it’s  _ Rey Kenobi, _ and its an honor he never thought he’d have, watching her unzip his fly and pull his dick out of dumb plaid boxers.

So yeah.

Time doesn’t matter anymore. It’s a--

An  _ illusion _ , she’d be quick to remind him if she could read his thoughts.

He smirks.

It disappears the second her tongue darts out to lick beneath his foreskin.

Dissolves into a million pieces.

Yeah. Time’s an illusion. She might be, too.

***

Ben’s lived six blocks away from  _ Kenobi’s  _ since he moved to New Orleans, and he’s managed to go the entire time without walking or driving past it once, which really is quite a feat considering the snoball stand sits on one of the city’s main roads.

He cannot  _ believe _ his track record is coming to an end.

Because of his mother, no less.

The line goes down the block; Leia insists they wait, and he endures five mosquito bites before they make it in.

It looks the same as it did when he was a kid, adorned with murals from local artists and decorated in articles celebrating their years of success on the inside. Even their menu is original, sided by limited-time-only flavors written in neat block writing on construction paper.

“I wonder who they have working here now,” Leia muses as they cross the threshold to the front of the line. “I very much doubt that--”

“Doubt what?”

“Is that-- _ Rey Kenobi?” _ She shrieks the name in excitement. Ben cringes beside her, looking down at the floor to avoid meeting the surprised gazes of other customers.

The thing is, it cannot  _ possibly _ be Rey Kenobi.

Because if it was, they would mean that she lives here, in New Orleans, and has spent her days six blocks away from him, a mere five minute walk, and he wouldn’t have even known it.

And that reality just won’t do.

But when he lifts his eyes and looks to the counter, there’s absolutely no mistaking it: that’s Rey Kenobi, all grown up, and she is more radiant than ever.

“Leia?” she calls back and--fuck, her voice hasn’t changed a bit. “Oh my  _ God _ !”

A smile stretches across her lips, wide and bright. Has it really been eight years? Eight years since he’s seen that grin?

“Are you running the stand now, Rey?” his mother babbles on. “Oh, this is the most wonderful news! I was always hoping the stand would stay in the hands of the Kenobi family.”

“I am! Well, I wasn’t originally, but I moved back a couple of years ago, after I graduated, and it just… didn’t feel right, giving this place over, so here I am! Best decision I ever made, and--” She finishes wiping down the counter, looks up fully for the first time since greeting Leia. Her voice softens, eyes widen. “Ben?”

Ben shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling his shoulders shrug up to his ears. “Hi, Rey.”

Rey bites her lip, takes it all in, the same as him. It’s this bridging of worlds, a crashing of two realities, a former life with this new one, and it’s overwhelming in an unbearable sort of way, like he might suffocate, and if she doesn’t say something to break this tension he probably won’t survive.

Even if she does, he probably won’t.

***

How laughable it is, that a sixteen-year-old boy would let the words of a measly child get to him. He’s stronger than this, and as an approaching junior in high school, comments about his large ears are certainly not supposed to bother him anymore.

But they do.

So when Rey Kenobi, with her dumb three buns and polka dotted swimsuit, quips back at his pipsqueak comment with a, “Didn’t realize Dumbo had room to talk,” well. 

That’s the end of their short-lived friendship, as far as Ben Solo is concerned.

***

“God, it’s been, what, eight years? What brings you two to town?” she asks, face lighting up once more, like there’d never been a grappling of the past at all.

Leia leans her elbows against the counter. “Actually, I’m here visiting Ben. He’s been living here the last five years.”

A raised eyebrow, cocked head his way. “Have you, Ben?”

“Mhm.”

“What do you do?”

“Ah,” he murmurs over the fans. Rey turns away, pulling two of the largest cups without asking. “Not much, right now.”

“He recently quit his job,” Leia interjects. For once, Ben is grateful.

“Oh?” Rey asks, filling a cup with ice. “What flavor for you, Leia?”

“Nectar, thank you, dear.”

In the pink liquid goes over the ice. Ben feels his lips shift into a grimace.

“What about you, Ben?”

“What about me?”

“Flavor,” Rey deadpans. “What flavor do you want?”

“Nothing for me.” The last thing he wants to do right now is disappoint her, but even still. “I don’t like sweets.”

“I remember.” Rey nods, like she’s going to drop the subject altogether. He lets out a relieved puff of air too soon. “I think I know the perfect flavor for you.”

***

Her lips are wrapped around him.

Rey Kenobi’s mouth, pushed up to the base of his shaft, her nose pressing against his pelvis.

He can feel her throat spasming, the tips of her fingers digging into the backs of his thighs, even the fluttering of her eyelashes.

His own eyes are shut tight. If he looks down, it’ll all be over, and he can’t handle that. Needs hours more of this. Wants a lifetime of her.

***

His mother leaves on June the 8th, a full six days after her arrival.

It is gloriously quiet around his house again. Hux, his orange Maine Coon, is there to keep him company, and the cat’s purrs are enough to satisfy his need for sound, for some kind of lifeform company.

But it’s not enough to distract him from the fact that Rey Kenobi is six blocks away.

That five minute walk is taunting him.

A cup of coffee, black as always, and cold shower later, he’s still pacing back and forth in the living room, the door to the outside world within arm’s reach.

And yet…

She couldn’t possibly want to see him again. Not after… not after all this time, not after the funeral.

But he mutters a sharp, “Fuck it,” anyway, and braves the humid air, stalks his way to Kenobi’s, thankful for its glorious rare moment of emptiness.

He can’t believe she grins so widely when he walks into the little shop. He doesn’t even mind that it’s as hot inside as it is outside, woefully lacking an update into the 21st century with air conditioning.

“Ben,” she calls out, brushing a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Another ginger-anise snoball?”

A smile, rare and small, back at her. “Please. Thanks.”

***

“Rey,” he hushes, a hand wrapped at the base of her scalp, hair tickling his skin. “Rey, you’ve gotta--” A gasp. “You’ve gotta stop, I can’t--”

She slides her mouth off his cock with a lewd pop, a dribble of spit careening its way down her chin. It reminds him of that game he used to play as a kid in the car, pretend races between raindrops sliding down the windows. 

What an odd thought for him to have, dick deep in her mouth.

“You can’t what?” she asks. “I think you can.”

She dives back in, and it’s all over with a smack of her lips and a gasp of his own, the most ecstatic orgasm of his entire life, at the hands of this girl in her sweaty Kenobi’s t-shirt and cut-off denim shorts.

***

In the middle of July, he finds a job that mercifully allows him the opportunity to dress in his coveted suits, as a lawyer on the side opposite his previous career.

It’s a strange twist of events, finding himself fighting against who he used to be.

_ Fitting _ , is what he tells Rey after his first week.

“You like it, though?” she asks without looking at him. Her focus is on getting this drizzle of condensed milk perfectly balanced atop his snoball.

“I do,” he says, leaning against the counter. “A lot. I think I’m… good at it. I know what they’re thinking because I used to  _ be _ them, you know?”

“Like a spy,” she says back, smirking. “How glamorous.”

Ben spoons shaved ice into his mouth the whole walk home, a grin the size of Jupiter pasted on.

***

The last words he ever said to her haunt his dreams for months, years even, since he said them, really. They keep him up, still, despite this friendship with Rey that doesn’t feel precarious at all, anymore.

He dreams of it that first night, when his mother was visiting and Rey Kenobi’s existence barreled its way back to the forefront of his mind.

“Ben Kenobi had to rescue you from your filthy drunk parents,” he’d said, a retaliation against her obstinance. An eighteen-year-old girl, fresh out of her first year of college, telling  _ him _ , the  _ college graduate _ , that his life choices were unbearably immoral, hardly worth considering. “He  _ raised _ one of those filthy drunks. He wasn’t good. Don’t put him on a pedestal. Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.”

Ben wakes with a jolt, a sting on his cheek, like he’d relived her slap all over again. Like her red-rimmed eyes and snotty nose were, once again, his fault entirely.

***

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” he whispers against her cunt, tongue running up her folds, flicking at her clit, tonguing inside of her.

The gasps she’s releasing, they’re like nothing else in this world. He’d burn towns to hear them forever, would guzzle a bottle of snoball syrup and thank the world for disgusting sugary substances everyday if it meant she’d always be there waiting for him to suck at her.

“Better than-- _ fuck _ \--the giner-anise snoballs?” she gets out through gritted teeth.

“I want a  _ Rey’s cunt _ flavored snoball, please.” He blows a stream of air to her sopping clit. “Or else I’m leaving a terrible Yelp review.”

She  _ giggles _ .

He’s going to come again, right in his boxers, for no fucking reason other than the sound of her voice.

“I’ll get right on it.”

She comes on his face; he feels her thighs clench around his neck and her hands thread into his hair and her back arch up off the couch, and he knows there’s no going back for him. It’s this or nothing, ever again.

***

Ben gets off late from work on a particularly sticky afternoon in August, and has to practically speed the entire drive from downtown to Kenobi’s. He makes it just as Rey is posting the closed sign on the door.

“Ginger-anise?” he calls out to her through his rolled-down window.

She spins around, shoots him that brilliant grin. “Well, anything for my favorite customer.”

It’s there, lingering in the back of his head; the memory playing on a loop, the dream beating itself in his sleep. He knows that, at some point, it has to be addressed, if he has any hope of pursuing this the way he so desperately wants.

_ Needs _ .

But there are probably smoother ways to go about it all than bombarding her with an intense and random, “Why don’t you hate me?”

A spoon in one hand and a rainbow snoball in the other, she sputters a mouthful of colored ice out.

“What?”

“After… after that day. I’d hate me. But you don’t. Never seemed to. Why?”

Rey swallows several more bites of snoball, eyebrows knitted together in thought.

“I… think we’ve both changed.” Another spoonful. “My grandpa taught me that forgiveness is my most powerful weapon. I forgave you. Realized hating you did me no good. And look at where you are now: a different man, and a really great person.”

He doesn’t mean to.

Kiss her, that is.

He means to ask her permission, maybe take her on a date first, show her that he deserves her.

It doesn’t matter in the end.

Her arms are looped around his neck in an instant, mouth opened up to his, snoballs dropped to the ground in a tragic loss. They groan against each other while he presses her against the counter, bending her so that she’s lying almost flat against the surface, until she breaks away with heavy breaths.

“Not here,” she says, pecking him again.

He nods, forgets about his car.

It’s six blocks to his house. The longest five minutes of his life.

***

He fills her up like it’s what it was always meant to be; like they’re making up for lost time, like he’s ruining her for all others.

Which, if he’s being honest, he is.

Caging her in with his elbows, Ben presses his lips against hers with lazy, slow kisses, languidly thrusts against her, inhaling deep breaths of her syrupy scent, until she’s thumping against his back with a first, whispering a begging mantra of, “ _ More, fuck, please, Ben, I need more.” _

Her wish is, obviously, his command.

He lifts himself up, presses a hand on either thigh, spreads her wide, sinks into her like a knife into butter. Faster, quicker, building it up. He presses a thumb against her clit, ragged moans leaving parted lips. Her hair is haphazard at best, flying out of its neat hair tie, spread against his pillows.

It really is the most marvelous sight.

“Just--yes-- _ right--fuck!” _ She goes limp beneath him, wails turning to quiet mewls.

He’s close behind, just three more thrusts, and it ends with him collapsing next to her.

Rey kisses his neck, lifts a leg around his torso. She’s so fucking beautiful, he doesn’t even mind the sticky anymore.

“I could go for a snoball,” he admits out loud.

“Thought you hated sweets?”

“Not when  _ you  _ make them.”

Their gazes meet. He grins, wide, uninhibited, and decides that maybe summers in New Orleans aren’t so bad, afterall.


End file.
